


Magnetic

by Renne



Category: Captain America (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - Olympics, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 05:06:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renne/pseuds/Renne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where American-born, Russian based swimmer Bucky Barnes is Steve Roger's number one rival for Olympic gold. In which Steve and Bucky are good friends despite the media's attempt at rivalry beat up and Steve has a lot of feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magnetic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beardsley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beardsley/gifts).



> In this Bucky is seventeen years old. If the thought of a seventeen year old and a 21 year old having sex squicks you out, please exit via the gift shop.

Steve boosts himself out of the pool, water sheeting down his body. He's happy enough with his time, feels like he's still got plenty in the tank. He came in second fastest, but providing no one swims faster in the last of the semi-finals, he's pretty confident he's got lane 5.  
  
"Steve! Steve Rogers!" It's one of the poolside reporters. He slicks his hair from his face, and pads over. The questions are the usual: is he happy with his time (yes), is he ready for the showdown with James Barnes (yes), does he think he'll go faster tonight (he hopes so), is he eyeing off another world record (he'd be happy with a medal, thanks).   
  
He's turning away to head for the changing rooms when he feels a hand pat his back as someone walks past. He turns with a grin, thinking it's going to be his teammate and lead in their 100m freestyle 4x4 team, Sam Wilson, who'd come in third and should secure lane 3.   
  
It's not Sam though, it's James Barnes, Steve's number one competition and favourite for gold in the 100m final that night. He's seventeen years old, cuts through the water like a knife and he smashed Steve's world record at the last World Championships like it was a stroll in the park. Theirs is a friendly competition though, belying initial attempts by the media to beat up their rivalry into something less good-natured, and it's no great secret that the US Olympic Committee is trying to lure Barnes into returning to his birth country.  
  
Steve doesn't drop his grin, just reaches out and slaps his hand lightly against Barnes' arm and knows the interaction will be all over the internet 30 seconds from the footage going live. Barnes pauses a moment for Steve to catch up and they head to the change rooms together.  
  
They don't talk about the race or the upcoming final.   
  
-  
  
"Call me Bucky," was the first thing Barnes ever said to Steve, when Steve introduced himself in the changing rooms for Barnes' – Bucky's – first short course World Championships. Bucky grinned and crinkled his nose. "Only Coach calls me James."   
  
He'd been fifteen years old then, young and just as hungry for victory as he is now.   
  
At nineteen, Steve was a veteran of one Olympic Games and numerous championships, the top of his game, and he'd completely underestimated this kid with a sunny smile and a Brooklyn accent, swimming for a former world power.  
  
It was the last time Steve underestimated him.  
  
-  
  
Steve touches the wall.   
  
He lifts his head out of the water, pulls off his goggles and cap and squints at the screen for the results, confused by the lack of numbers. It's close then, he thinks, reaching out for the rope separating lanes 4 and 5.   
  
There's an agonisingly long pause, the noise from the crowd deafening, and he glances over to Bucky, hanging off the rope between their lanes by Steve's hand. Bucky doesn't look at Steve, his eyes fixed on the screen.  
  
The results flash up.   
  
Steve can't help his whoop of joy, pushing himself out of the water and punching the air. He's touched one hundredth of a second ahead of Bucky and seven tenths of a second ahead of the world record in his blue ribbon event. He feels a slap on his back and turns to Sam, in lane 6 and who took bronze, to haul him in for a hug.  
  
He turns back to congratulate Bucky, but he's already turned away to the lane beside his; he heads for the edge of the pool without turning back.   
  
-  
  
It's not like Steve was attracted to Bucky the first moment he saw him. What he first saw was a kid built like any other elite swimmer, all lean and lithe muscles. Nice face, if a bit sullen at times. Too young to relax, too anxious with the pressure on him. Steve understood that.   
  
It wasn't until six months after the championships were done and dusted and  **jbbarnes** popped up on his Skype one day requesting to connect a call, that Steve started to develop a bit more of an appreciation for the competition.   
  
"I heard about your press conference," was the first thing Bucky said when Steve accepted his call. "How are you feeling?" There was genuine concern in his voice.   
  
A week before, during their so-called off season, Steve had called a press conference. Yes, he said, he's gay, and no, he won't take any questions about his personal life now any more than he would ten minutes ago, please respect his privacy, thank you and goodnight.  
  
"Feel good," Steve admitted and Bucky had smiled at him. Real and warm, and Steve—  
  
-  
  
When Steve swims he doesn't feel the weight of expectation. He pushes all thoughts from his mind but doing his best, and doing his team proud, as he enters the water for the anchor leg of the 4x100m relay, his first final of the Games.   
  
Steve might enter the water for Team USA in third, three quarters of a body length behind the leader, but he touches the wall first, followed by Australia and then France.   
  
Russia touches the wall in fourth, missing the medals by barely a finger.   
  
It's only their first event of the meet, but Bucky looks shattered. Later, Steve'll understand, when he sees the newscast which shows the epic effort Bucky has put in to pull the lagging Russian team from last to fourth. But for now Steve doesn't know what to say to him – it's the Olympics, without a medal, 'good job' is just empty words – and when Bucky offers a stilted congratulations, "Thanks, yeah, it was a good swim," is all he can manage and it sounds dismissive to his own ears.  
  
Not just his own, if the way Bucky turns away is any indication.  
  
After, Steve runs into him at one of the dining halls at the Olympic Village. They don't talk about the race or their upcoming events.  
  
-   
  
Bucky has always been faster than Steve on the first split of a 100m and this advantage has him the clear favourite for the 50m dash and his last chance of the Games to beat Steve in an individual event.   
  
There's a reason Steve – tall, blond and built, not to mention named  _Steve Rogers_  – is nicknamed Captain America, and he doesn't disappoint. He swims the fastest 50m of his life, snags another world record and his fifth gold of the meet.   
  
When he turns to Bucky, Bucky's leaning on the rope separating their lanes. He looks both wrecked and resigned. But he grins wryly, and grips Steve's hand and leans in for a celebratory hug. "One day," he promises, his arm curled around Steve's neck.   
  
Steve grins. "Bring it."  
  
-  
  
(Bucky brings it the next day in the 4x100m medley relay. Steve's disappointed for his team, of course, feels wiped as he pulls himself from the pool, nothing left in the tank. But yet.)  
  
-  
  
Bucky's almost thrumming with energy as he sidles in between a rower and a basketballer and leans against the wall next to Steve. Steve knows what it's like to be seventeen and tapering, all energy and no outlet. Bucky's hot – but then again, as world-class athletes they almost all are – and Steve wonders why he's not off fucking his way through the Village now his Olympics are done. He leans over and says in Bucky's ear, "Thought you'd be out partying now we're all done."  
  
"What d'you think I'm doing?" His eyes are bright and Steve's heartbeat kicks up a notch. Bucky's not the only one tapering, with too much energy under his skin.   
  
Steve laughs. "Somewhere with alcohol I mean." It means shit all that Bucky's only seventeen in the Village; alcohol might be theoretically banned, but if you knew the right people it wasn't hard to get your hands on it. And hell, even outside, in the city, Steve knows Bucky could walk into any bar and get smashed. He wouldn't even need a medal around his neck to do it.  
  
"Speaking of," and Bucky gives him a sly smile. "I hear the Aussies have received a delivery. What d'you say we blow this joint 'n go find a real party?"  
  
-  
  
Steve loses Bucky within five minutes of entering the common area that's been rebranded to something distinctly Australian. It's full of half naked, buff athletes from across the Olympic nations, filling up on alcohol, hormones and a lot of almost but not quite public hooking up. He wonders if Bucky—  
  
No. Best not think about that.   
  
Steve never thought Bucky was for him, after all.  
  
(It's not to say it doesn't happen. Steve's on his second Olympics; by now he knows everyone's a little bisexual in the Olympic Village. But he forces himself not to have expectations. It's easier that way.)  
  
He's flirting with a cute Dutch diver with a terrible grasp of English when Bucky emerges from the throng, a necked bottle of whiskey in one hand.  
  
"There you are," he says, inserting himself between Steve and the Dutch diver. "Let's go somewhere quieter. All this noise is giving me a headache."   
  
When Steve goes to excuse them (without even a second thought, because it's Bucky), his conversation partner has already disappeared.   
  
-  
  
"Sam won't be back tonight, he's got a double date with the Brazilian beach volleyball team," Steve says as he opens the door to the apartment. He's not entirely sure how come they end up there, but they do. He feels self-conscious because the living area looks like a bomb hit and the only place with any space to sit down – and it's always kept that way – is the bedroom.  
  
Bucky doesn't seem to care though, just presses the whiskey into Steve's hand and nudges Steve with his hip to sit on the bed, grabbing the seat Sam stole from the cafeteria on the first night in the Village for himself.  
  
-   
  
"I'm kind of glad it's all over? Our – the swimming, I mean?" Steve's not a big drinker, but he can hear the lightness in his own voice. He's a bit drunk. Not much, but a bit.   
  
He wonders how much Bucky has to have drank at the party for him to be slouched down in the chair, feet propped up on the edge of the bed and looking at him like that. The whiskey is on the table by the bed, but the level hasn't dropped much since Bucky first presented it to Steve on the walk back to Steve's room.  
  
Bucky has to be drunk to be looking at him like that. "What?" Steve says. "What's that look for?"  
  
"What look?"  
  
"That one." Steve gestures in the vicinity of Bucky's face. Bucky laughs and drops his feet to the floor, sitting forward and catching Steve's wrist in his hand. Steve jerks his arm back playfully, and doesn't expect it when Bucky doesn't let go, when he tumbles forward over Steve on the bed.  
  
-  
  
(Steve inhales sharply and then Bucky leans down and kisses him.)  
  
-  
  
"Bucky—"  
  
"Shh," Bucky says and he's relaxing against Steve, pressing against him with no subtlety. He kisses Steve again and Steve, this time, kisses back. (And god, does he kiss him, hungrily, letting his hands cup Bucky's head, fingers tangle in his hair.)  
  
"You sure you want this?"  
  
"I made sure," Bucky says. He slides his leg against Steve's, fingers tucking under the hem of Steve's shirt. They're cool against Steve's skin. "I like you and I didn't…" he hesitates and wets his lips. "I didn't want to start to do this and then realise I couldn't or – or didn't want to. Y'know? I didn't want to hurt you if it turned out I couldn't go through with it."  
  
Steve blinks, tries to piece it together. "You mean the – with the sex?"  
  
Bucky nods. "I like you a lot," he says earnestly. "And I didn't want to fuck this – us, being friends – up. I don't, I mean, I still don't."  
  
Huh... Bucky slept with someone to see if he liked sex with men. So he'd know if he could have sex with Steve and wouldn't risk hurting Steve's feelings if it turned out he didn't like it.   
  
Steve's not sure how he feels about that. Flattered, charmed and a whole lot jealous that someone else got to touch Bucky first, of course. But Bucky slept with someone because he already planned on doing it with Steve and –   
  
Then he realises Bucky's looking at him anxiously, bottom lip caught between his teeth, and Steve can't help but smile and instead lean in to kiss him again and again.  
  
-  
  
Steve doesn't care that Bucky's done this once before; it's that he's only done it once, so Steve fucks Bucky like it is his first time, slow and gentle and thorough. He takes his time as Bucky arches underneath him, gasping and whining. Bucky's fingers slip in the sweat beading Steve's bare shoulders.   
  
-  
  
"Is this just a thing?" Steve asks against the soft skin covering Bucky's collarbone. "An Olympics thing? A… friendship thing?" He kisses the curve of flesh. He should probably wait until the Games are over to ask, he knows that, but he thinks he might be completely in love with Bucky after another six or seven days of this. He mightn't want the answer then.  
  
He's not sure he wants it now.   
  
"'Friendship thing'?"  
  
"You know, a 'friends with benefits' thing." Steve wonders if he could be okay with that anyway, with the feelings he has about Bucky – he's not in love yet, he's  _not_  – if it was just physical.   
  
Bucky laughs, combing his fingers through Steve's hair. "You asking if this is some summer fling? 'What happens at the Olympics stays at the Olympics'?"  
  
"You planned ahead of time to sleep with me—"  
  
"And what does that tell you?"  
  
Steve bites his lip. "Why do you care about my feelings?"   
  
"Are you kidding me?" Bucky's fingers press against Steve's lips, then sweep gently across his cheek. "Steve, c'mon, Steve—" and Steve lets Bucky coax his face up for a long, deep kiss. He kisses like he wants to be there, Steve thinks, and wonders if his fear is as stupid as it feels.   
  
_I like you a lot_ , Bucky had said. His tone—  
  
"Stop thinking so much," Bucky says against Steve's lips. "Unless you're thinking about how next time we should fuck with our medals on. In which case, think on."   
  
Steve can feels Bucky's smile against his mouth and can't help but laugh. "Okay," he says, "okay."  
  
-  
  
Tomorrow Sam will nicely threaten to break both of Bucky's legs if this is just a fling and he breaks Steve's heart, but Steve won't know that. He won't know that Bucky promises that it could never be so simple, or that Bucky is in it for the long run if that's what Steve wants. He won't know that while he's off with the rest of the team at the stadium that night cheering on their teammates, Bucky's having a casual, confidential chat with the head of the US swim team.   
  
All Steve will know is that when he returns to the Village later, Sam will tell him with grin that Bucky's looking for him, and he'll find Bucky in one of dining halls at a table with athletes from every continent. Bucky will shuffle his chair down to give Steve room at the table, their knees will press together under the table, and then, even later again, Bucky will press Steve up against the wall outside one of the apartment blocks and kiss him until they're both breathless.

**Author's Note:**

> Works inspired by this one: [[podfic] Magnetic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3643287/chapters/8048880). Go and listen!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Magnetic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3643287) by [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins), [Renne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renne/pseuds/Renne)




End file.
